Apocalypse's Prelude

by Carl Damen

  Julia raised her hand fractionally, and Edarus nodded in acknowledgment. "Okay. Call Terstein, tell him I want a phone conference ASAP, today if possible. Next, need to talk with the U.N. We're going to address the Defender issue head on, set them up as refugees seeking political asylum; no one can have hands on them."

  Several people around the room gasped.

  "What?"

  Julia lowered her tablet stylus. "You're saying we have some authority to give them asylum... that means we have authority over them to begin with."

  "Yes. Besides that all those known are American citizens, we're going to acknowledge that we made them. Anyone who has a problem with that can leave now."

  No one answered. Julia raised the stylus in anticipation of what Edarus would say next.

  "We're raising security alert level; things might get a little crazy in the next few days. I want every branch of the military ready. Also, call Mistaren. As of now, he's relieved of duty, and I want him ready to be NSA first thing tomorrow." He straightened, placed his hands on his hips, and nodded.

  "That everything?" Julia asked, her eyebrows quirked in frank disbelief.

  "For you, yes. Eli!"

  Eli twitched and coughed.

  "Get me a press conference. The sooner, the better. Twenty minutes. Every network."

  Eli nodded and started scribbling into a notebook.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Edarus said, his arms outstretched. "Welcome to the future!" He dropped his arms and turned to look at the remaining agents.

  "Now, where the hell is my family?"

  7

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 11

  The voice of the woman calling herself Cyd screeched out of the speakers of Tara's mobile. "Did we start out learning to kill people with our minds? Phh- Hell no. No, we just... we just did shit for a while, you know? Just kinda fucked around and... Naw, the killin' came later."

  Another voice said something indistinct, and Cyd laughed. "Fuck. Naw, no, no, no, I—I couldn't do anything cool like that now. No, my power's still blocked. I just got the memories."

  "I thought we already watched this one..." Amanda muttered.

  Tara shrugged. "You did maybe, but I don't remember it."

  Amanda grunted and pushed further back into the alcove they had taken shelter in.

  The recording of Cyd continued. "Hell yes, I was there. What, you think I'm crazy? That I'd lie about that? Ha! 'Course I was there when the riot started. Hell, I helped start it. There was this crazy guy, see, and—"

  "You know..." Amanda looked down at the tiny, red-haired pixie dancing wildly across the mobile, "my uncle was there, when the riot started."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, he mentioned Cyd."

  "Dang. What'd he think? Crazy?"

  Amanda shook her head. Uncle Jack had mentioned it in passing, that he had been at the riot, had seen it start, had been accosted by a strange woman. "He never said, but I'm guessing crazy."

  Tara looked up and met her friend's eyes. "And you think she's crazy, too."

  Amanda tried to look offended. "Of course not! We can't discount any—"

  "Mmm, no. Don't try to bullshit your way out of this. You really think she's crazy and making it up. Why?"

  "Well..." Amanda looked up from the mobile and out at the crowds of freezing, unhappy teenagers. "Just too coincidental. She's a super-soldier, who just happens to show up at the site of a pro-'hud rally, the day after her fellow super-soldier tries to kill the president. She's unable to duplicate any powers, and our oh-so paranoid government has failed to pick up on her. She's just a crazy street person who was in the right place at the right time to get a good story."

  Tara nodded, then stretched her legs and stared up at the sky. "Looks like snow."

  Amanda didn't look up. "No it doesn't."

  "So if she's lying, why? Just the attention?"

  Amanda opened her mouth to respond, but didn't answer. She stared at the screen for a moment, then gestured for the mobile to rewind the video.

  "Amanda?"

  "Shh! Did you here that?"

  "What?" Tara leaned forward and scrutinized the screen. "What'd she say?"

  Amanda gestured for the mobile to play, and Cyd's high, nasal voice returned. "—was this crazy guy, see, and he showed up there and was just watching. And I was thinking, and was all like, 'Shit, he looks familiar.' So I went over to him, and it was him, one of my buddies from the program. What a fuckin' coincidence, huh? So I was like, 'Hey, Jack! What's up?' And he just stared at me like I was crazy or something, and tired to buy me off, but I knew it was him; I'd recognize that bald little head of his anywhere, even with those stupid glasses. And I started tellin' everybody—hey! Hey, you! Yeah, you, in the football jersey!" Cyd broke off and started waving at someone off screen.

  Tara gestured for the video to stop. "You think she's talking about your uncle?"

  "She described him perfectly..."

  "That's hilarious! And she think's he's an E.H.U.D.?"

  Amanda shook her head.

  "What? She's crazy, right? Why'd you care what she says? Besides, that'd be cool if he really was one!"

  "My dad think's he's an E.H.U.D."

  "So?"

  "So I've heard him taking about it, and he sounded a little angry. He and Jack haven't really gotten along that well for the past few months. Look, let's change the subject, okay?"

  "Sure." Tara dropped the mobile into her lap, then leaned out past the edge of their alcove. "Okay, backtracking to your dad, sorry, but when the hell's he supposed to get here?"

  Amanda shrugged.

  "He know's it's his day right, and that we just can't walk out of here?"

  "He knows... probably just got caught up at work." She sighed, then stood up and began to pace in a tight circle. "Shit. I can't believe they're doing this to us! They round us up and store us in these goddamn concentration camps all day, and now they won't let us leave until a fucking grown-up comes and holds our hands!"

  Tara nodded. "Sucks. That's the reactionaries for you."

  "Yeah, like we're gonna get caught in a riot right outside the school. We should be free to leave on our own!"

  Tara snorted and swiped a hand at Amanda's leg. "You just want to see Ware without daddy finding out."

  Amanda stopped walking. "Shut up." She dropped back down next to Tara and grabbed for the mobile. "Okay, forget detainment without just cause; we can argue the constitution later. Let's watch something."

  Tara opened her mouth, but Amanda said quickly, "Not Cyd. I've had too much Cyd. See if AmeriNews has anything new on the riot yesterday."

  Tara closed her mouth and reclaimed the mobile from Amanda. "Okay... Oh! Breaking news, it's been out for like ten minutes now, presidential statement about the Defenders!"

  "Fatty's trying to bury the perjury, you think?"

  "Video's loading!"

  The screen went black for a moment, then displayed a static shot of a lectern with the presidential seal on the front, then—

  "Hey!" Tara leaned forward. "That's not—"

  "Shh!"

  On the screen, looking tired, his hair and beard slightly frayed, was Edarus Latterndale.

  "My fellow Americans," he began, his voice deep and firm, "it is my sad duty to inform you that this morning President Isaac Latterndale was assassinated in the presidential residence. Following his unfortunate passing, and the abrupt resignation of Secretary of State Charlton Wong, it has fallen to me to execute the duties of the office of President of the United States." He cleared his throat, looked at the lectern.

  "It may seem inappropriate to address matters of policy while the country should be in a period of morning, but unfortunately we are in a state of crisis, and policy must be addressed.

  "The Defenders."

  Amanda felt a tingle of excitement, a sense of impending change.

  "The previous official line regarding theses so-called foreign saboteurs is now null and void; it is time to r
eveal the truth of them and their origins. Everything alleged by the late Merd Lanlin is true, in general terms. The American government created the Defenders. Illegally, unethically."

  This was really happening.

  "And I knew about it."

  Latterndale fell silent as a torrent of mixed emotions surged through Amanda. Everything she had suspected, the hidden truth she had believed, was true. But the man she had respected, the hero she had privately worshiped, had just acknowledged himself as a fraud.

  Latterndale continued. "I'm going to try to be honest with you; I didn't know all the facts. I knew the first two subjects were volunteers, and I naturally assumed the rest were volunteers. Nothing I was told contradicted that perception." He paused and nodded solemnly. "Nothing reinforced that perception. Judge that as you will.

  "Now, if I knew about the truth, why didn't I come forward following Lanlin's accusations? Why didn't anyone? Why indeed? Fear. Immediately following Lanlin's attack, the president was not... rational. He was unbalanced and threatening, and I feared for my family's safety. I realize now that the greater threat was to let the deception stand, but it is far too late to make better choices. All that is left to do is to move on, and I ask for your support in enacting new policy regarding the Defenders.

  "Based on wisdom given over the past two months by leveler heads, especially those of Senator Terstein and Ambassador Mokri, I feel that it is best to label the Defenders as weapons of mass destruction, to be placed under international authority and oversight."

  Tara gasped and Amanda clutched her arm; Latterndale seemed determined to lose all credibility in this one speech.

  "To ensure that these weapons will not be misused by any government or other power, only those experienced with the Defenders should be considered to oversee them. As such, I would respectfully request that the United Nations accept the Defenders as political refugees from their country of origin, and grant them governance over the Defender weapons."

  Amanda released Tara's arm. It was abrupt, it was clumsily stated, but it was brilliant: Latterndale had redeemed himself.

  "As of this point, I no longer consider the Defenders as American citizens. They are international diplomats, and will be treated with all of the courtesy and authority that this distinction grants them. To any Defenders watching this broadcast, I ask that you make yourselves known, that you connect with our government, with any government, to help us in achieving peace, to put this dark period behind us. You Defenders have been hurt by us; now it is time time for you Defenders to be defended by us."

  There were several moments of silence as Latterndale looked down at the podium, tapped his fingers, and finally nodded. "There is much more that needs to be said, but I feel that it can best be said later. The immediate problem is to right the wrong that has been done; the rest can come later. Thank you." He turned and walked away. The video ended.

  "Oh, holy shit..." Tara stared at the screen. "Isaac's dead..."

  Amanda furrowed her brows. "The man pulls off a brilliant piece of political bullshitting that gives the world self-aware mutually assured destruction, and all you can care about is that some old man died?"

  "He was assassinated! And 'the man' didn't tell us by who."

  "Why does that matter?"

  Tara lowered the mobile and fixed Amanda with a withering stare. "Really? Why do you think he didn't bring it up? What possible reason could there be to not give away the identity of the assassin?"

  "You don't have to be such a bitch about it." Amanda stood and rubbed her arms; the temperature was dropping. "Condemning a Defender while trying to make nice would kill the message."

  "We're not going to be the only people to put this together. It's going to come back and bite him."

  "Doesn't matter. Mystery 'hud kills the president, that's a major no-no, even if public opinion's on their side. Latterndale can get away with this one thing."

  "Hmm..."

  They remained like that for several minutes, Tara sitting and scrolling through comments on her mobile, Amanda standing and shivering.

  "You know," Amanda said, fog curling away from her mouth, "if this goes down right, if Latterndale can really push this whole independent Defenders thing with the U.N., everything's going to get better. And then... Then we can GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS FUCKING PLACE!"

  Heads all around the schoolyard turned in her direction, and Amanda slumped down next to Tara, resigned to wait for her father.

  4

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 12

  "Sir?"

  He wasn't ready to wake up...

  "Sir?"

  Edarus sat up, opened his eyes, and tried to stretch in the confined space.

  "We're her, sir."

  Past the head of a guard, bare trees rolled by in the twilight, clawed hands ripping at the sky. The road curved ahead through more woodland, curving around hills, leading to the unseen destination. And then: evergreens parted, and a low bunker made of concrete and, disconcertingly, glass, appeared at the end of a manicured drive.

  "What is this place?"

  "We'll talk outside."

  A quick visual sweep revealed several dark spots in the surrounding woodland—sniper nests. Beyond that, the skeletal trees flowed on forever.

  The vehicle stopped, and they disembarked.

  A thin woman with a weathered face appeared from the door recessed in the very middle of the building's facade. "Hello, Mr. President. Welcome to Camp Eglon."

  It took a moment for Edarus to process the name; he had to fight his way back to college to make any sort of connection. "Someone has a pretty sick sense of humor."

  "It seems to be entirely coincidental."

  Edarus nodded, then took a step back and looked again at the building. His first glimpse from the car had been of a one-story structure, flat-roofed, extending for around two hundred feet and disappearing at a slight angle off into the woods. The building seemed to be composed of concrete, no doubt reinforced against artillery, but had an angled glass wall fronting it, enclosing a promenade before of the outermost layer of concrete.

  Amazingly, the door through which the woman had come had been made of glass as well, leaving what seemed to be a rather gaping security hole.

  "Is this place safe?" He gestured at the glass-enclosed walkway.

  The woman stretched out an unconvincing smile. "Certainly sir. The wall is of course bullet-proof, and the only way to access the observation level is through an underground passage."

  Edarus nodded, still unsure. The security for his transportation here had seemed ridiculously overdone, but the security for his home seemed simply ridiculous. "And you are...?"

  The woman extended her hand. "Joan Ashheart, chief of staff here at Camp E."

  "How come I've never heard of this place?"

  Ashheart shrugged. "It was a secret, one few people needed to know about. A remote site to keep the president safe in case of an all-out emergency. I'm sure Ms. Telk would know more."

  "Are there any other places like this?"

  "Again, you'd have to speak with Ms. Telk. Now please, a secure location makes no difference if you intend to stand in the open all day. Besides," here she smiled, though this time it appeared genuine, "your family is waiting."

  Inside the great glass door was a small foyer, walled, roofed, and floored in concrete, with another set of doors on the other side. Ashheart pressed her hand against a palm scanner and the door clicked. She pulled it open and Edarus stepped inside.

  The interior was... dull. Against every expectation instilled by the exterior, the interior looked like a well-appointed hospital reception area: beige walls lined with dark wood, tan carpet, small dark-wood chairs and settees.

  "They're in the family room."

  Ashheart led him past the first room and through a series of wide corridors, the blank walls interrupted now and again by doors or small tables topped by flower arrangements. They twisted and turned, then came to a place were the wall
opened up and fell away into a void.

  "What's this?" Edarus looked out over a huge atrium, extending from his level down two or three floors, walled on the far side in glass that looked out over a dead, wooded valley. In front of him was a staircase which began as the same beige-and-stained-wood as the rest of the building but quickly faded into an angled, crystalline structure of steel and glass, more reminiscent of the exterior than anything inside. Far below it ended on a sea of polished black stone.